


Friendship Noms

by ThoseFiveChicks



Category: Maggot Boy
Genre: Although I guess it's not really an AU since Micah's really half-vampire anyway, Blood Drinking, Gen, No zambies, Studying very badly, Vampire AU, Yes I really couldn't think of a better title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseFiveChicks/pseuds/ThoseFiveChicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your best friend is half vampire– or however that really works, PJ never really figured it out– you put up with a lot of weirdness. Most of it's just because he's Micah, and Micah is weird, but occasionally you have to deal with the part of him that's slightly more. . . bloodthirsty.<br/>In which Parker is great at keeping Micah fed but terrible at getting his Social Studies homework done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship Noms

**Author's Note:**

> So. . . I know that all I'm good for at this point is gifting this fandom with crappy vampire AUs, buuuuut. . . technically not an AU this time! Whooooot!  
> . . .yeah, I know how pathetic I am. Just. . . just cringe and look away.

You didn’t have to be Micah’s best friend to figure out he was hungry. PJ was, naturally, but even jerks like Allen were noticing how Micah twitched at every near-miss of human contact and were steering well clear. They’d almost beaten Parker up after school that afternoon, would have, but then Micah showed up and _glared_ at them with such venom that they _all_ knew there may be murder yet.

And here they were.

In PJ’s house.

There was sort of an unspoken rule that they hung out at Micah’s house whenever the urge to be bros overcame them. It wasn’t that Micah was stuck-up– though he kind of was– it was just that they both knew Micah’s house was cooler and there wasn’t any arguing with that.

But sometimes– when Micah was starting to get visibly thirsty– they’d make a different turn, the one that led down the road to PJ’s apartment instead. He could never figure out afterwards which one of them had been the first one to switch directions– if Micah had been straying a little to the right, or if PJ had hopped up on the wrong curb– but they never discussed the choice, before or after, because they both knew it was just something that had to happen. Micah needed to eat, PJ. . . well, not _needed_ to feed him, but _wanted_ to. They were best friends.

They had each other’s backs.

“So _then_ my dad’s just like, ‘Micah, if you think you’re responsible enough to stay home alone for a week, then _I_ think you’re responsible enough to start doing some more chores around the house.’ It’s like, _really?_ Really, dad? If you’re not gonna trust me enough to do what _I_ want then why the _hell_ should I go out of the way to do what _you_ want? Anytime you talk to your parents about wanting _anything_ they either make you work for it or they bring up stuff they got you that you didn’t even _want_. Like, they guilt you out of wanting things with things _they_ wanted to get you! Isn’t that just the _stupidest_ thing?”

PJ nodded, lazily flipping a page in their history textbook. They were attempting– with no particular amount of success– to work on an essay about Abraham Lincoln, and by ‘work on’ PJ meant that he was skimming through the material while Micah ranted. There wasn’t much point putting actual _effort_ in just then, not with Micah frazzled with hunger and PJ about to be dizzy with blood loss. Micah hadn’t said anything, hadn’t brought it up yet, but they both knew it was going to happen.

PJ just had to be the one to speak up first, that was all.

“Hey, Micah?”

The vampire glanced up, mouth halfway open like he’d been about to start speaking, and there were fangs glinting in the gap. They were always there, they didn’t just show up when Micah was hungry, but that was the only time when PJ really _noticed_. The only time when it was an immediate concern for him, or more accurately, his wrist.

Parker closed the textbook. He wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon.

“You hungry?”

Aaand there went the floodgates. Micah flopped facedown on the bed, already drawing breath to speak. Not complaining for Micah was like not _breathing_ to most people, and PJ knew the only reason he’d managed it so far was because he didn’t want to pressure him into anything. Now, though, now that Parker had opened the door for him. . .

“I’m fucking _starving_ ,” Micah groaned, voice muffled against PJ’s mattress. “I mean, _Jesus_ , PJ, you know how bad it is being a vampire in _high school?_ Even if I _wasn’t_ hungry, every guy on the football team is scraping their knees and getting bloody noses and then every second or third girl is on their _period_ and I’m still expected to attend class! Like, what the actual _fuck_ were my dads _thinking?_ One of these days I’m seriously gonna lose it and bite someone and it’s gonna be _all their fault_ for not letting me drop out. Thanks a lot, guys, love the parental concern.”

PJ laughed quietly, standing up and walking over to the bed. Micah propped himself up on his elbows, mismatched eyes slanting up at him with a gaze that was just _slightly_ too intense for comfort. Lightheartedness aside, PJ knew Micah really _was_ hungry, and the fact that he wasn’t jumping him right now was a wonder within itself. Still. . .

“If we don’t get that report done, we flunk history,” Parker said, rolling up his sleeve. He wouldn’t really have minded Micah taking from his neck, but with high school and all they’d decided it was probably best to avoid giving the rumor mill any _more_ fodder. Also, _hells_ of awkward if PJ’s parents happened to walk in. So the wrist was safer, if decently less fun for Micah.

Micah rolled his eyes, sitting up and reaching out a hand towards Parker. “Quit stalling and give me your arm, you sissy.”

It was supposed to be a joke, PJ could tell, but the tone of Micah’s voice was too husky for it to really come off as one, too close to the edge of a growl. Parker obeyed anyway, turning his hand palm-up and letting Micah tug his wrist towards his mouth. He leaned on his other arm, watching over Micah’s shoulder as the vampire trailed his tongue over his wrist. He shivered, fingers clenching instinctively, and Micah threw him a look.

“You know that just makes it hurt more, right? Increases the blood flow, but. . . ‘s not like you’re going anywhere.”

PJ frowned, biting his lower lip as he tried– and failed– to force himself to relax. He did manage to open his fingers, though, so that was something. “Yeah, I know, I just. . . can’t help it.”

Micah huffed, licking his wrist again, and this time he was the one who shivered. “You can stop freaking out, PJ, we’ve done this _how_ many times?”

PJ hesitated, trying to come up with an exact number, but found he couldn’t. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t feeding Micah– he could– and it wasn’t even that he didn’t remember the very first time they’d done it– he did. It was just that. . . well. . . he’d sort of lost count.

That wasn’t the problem, though.

“It’s just _instinct_ , Micah, I can’t control that. Everything in me is telling me to yank my hand away.”

Micah scowled. “Yeah, well,” he said, nuzzling against PJ’s wrist and inhaling sharply. “Everything in _me_ is telling me to drink you dry right now, so I think we can safely say that instinct has been kicked to the curb.”

“Thank God for that,” PJ murmured, but the way Micah’s grip was tightening told him that he hadn’t _quite_ ditched his instincts yet. _It’s Micah_ , he reminded himself, like he usually did, eyes flicking from Micah’s chipped black nail polish to his thick black eyeliner. Micah’s eyes were drifting shut, his head tilting, and a moment later his mouth was closing gently around PJ’s wrist, fangs pressing _just_ lightly enough that they didn’t draw blood.

“Ready?” he asked, voice slightly muffled but still perfectly understandable, and PJ’s grip tightened on the covers.

“Yeah.”

It hurt.

It never stopped hurting, not after all the times they’d done this, and Parker still couldn’t hold back that first little cry of pain. Micah’s grip tightened even more as PJ’s arm jerked, reflexively trying to pull away from the source of the pain, but Parker gritted his teeth and– with difficulty– managed to stay put. Micah slid his fangs out, then, dislodging them as gently as possible, although he still pulled just a little too sharply to one side and PJ had to bite back a whimper.

As soon as the fangs were gone– well, not _gone_ , but at least no longer actively being _used_ – the sharp sting in PJ’s wrist turned to a dull ache. Micah started to say something, probably asking if PJ was alright, but there was already blood threatening to drip onto the covers and the vampire quickly closed his mouth over the punctures before it could spill.

At the first touch of lightheadedness, PJ pressed his forehead against Micah’s shoulder, leaning against his friend. There was a sort of rhythm to this, a pattern, how Micah’s grip tightened slightly at each pull and relaxed as he swallowed. How the waves of increasing dizziness came with an alarming regularity, just a few seconds before each time PJ heard Micah swallow.

His eyes were closed. When had he closed his eyes? PJ opened them again, struggling, and realized belatedly that his vision was starting to get a little. . . weird. Ugh. He was _not_ going to enjoy working on the report like this. . .

“Micah,” he said, gingerly trying to extricate himself from his friend’s grip. Micah didn’t respond, fingers tightening, tongue dragging across the punctures with a staccato burst of pain. PJ groaned. So they were doing _this_ again. Great.

“ _Micah_ ,” he repeated, this time with more force, struggling to sit up. When that failed to elicit a response, he yanked at his arm, rolling his eyes. _God_ , Micah could be a spoiled brat sometimes. . . “Micah, we really _do_ have to write that report, and I can’t do that if I’ve passed out.”

“So _I’ll_ write it,” Micah muttered, barely lifting his mouth from Parker’s skin in order to do so. He still hadn’t let go, and PJ still hadn’t managed to free himself, whether from his current lightheadedness or Micah’s strength he didn’t know. Probably both. 

“No thank you, I’d like to pass. Micah, _seriously_.”

“Just a little more, Peej, _c’mon_.”

PJ winced at the next swallow– it was getting a little hard to breathe. “Every time you say that I wind up blacking out. Micah, _stop_. I mean it!”

Micah grumbled, but– with one last slurp at the bite mark– let go of PJ’s arm. PJ made a face at him, trying to rub some feeling back into his wrist without reopening the wound.

“Jerk,” he muttered.

“Bitch.”

“Get me a bandaid, wouldja?”

They (nearly) aced the report, settling comfortably in the C+ range, although they did get points off for neatness. Their teacher wanted them to be more careful about their fruit punch next time. _Eating while working is one thing, but you should at least avoid spilling your drinks on the paper._

Micah thought that was hilarious.


End file.
